


fate & passion

by murasakibabe



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Piercings, Smut, Tattoos, slight au only in the sense that midorima's hair isnt naturally green
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murasakibabe/pseuds/murasakibabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened and he blinked several times in quick succession before replying.</p><p>“Takao?”</p><p>The startled question came out in a dazed whisper, and the dark-haired man at the counter cocked his head to the side as if he were straining to listen. His eyes roamed over the tall man in front of him and suddenly, his eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped slightly in surprise.</p><p>“Shin-chan?”</p><p>or; midorima and takao meet again after four years and they have feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	fate & passion

**Author's Note:**

> i just really like midorima with tattoos

Midorima wasn’t an arrogant man, but he did like to look at his reflection. A lot.

Sometimes he would look at himself in the mirror for so long that it was strange to not be able to see every minute flicker of his eyes or twitch of his nose. His eyes would trace over his impeccably dyed shamrock-green hair and stretched ears and roam over his face; the studs pierced through his eyebrow, the small hoop in his septum, the sharp glints of metal in his lip.

His gaze would dance across the large, colorful tattoo of the proud and meaningful phrase he put on his heart forever. _God Disposes._ The looping typography wound its way through artfully splotchy patches of green and blue, winding its way to both sides of his pectorals, where it curled into a frame for the pierced nipples that caught the light when he shifted his torso. He would trail his eyes down his chest to catch the glint of light that reflected from the dangling charm hanging from his belly button and the sight of the small rose tattooed on his hip that was always at least partially hidden.

Growing up with people who planned every second of his future put certain types of pressures on Midorima. Pressure to look professional, pressure to act cool and unaffected, pressure to bury his emotions behind locked doors and icy walls. However, after turning seventeen and being kicked out by the father who had just received another son (maybe this one would be less of a disappointment, maybe _he_ would actually try to succeed at something other than basketball . . . maybe he wouldn’t like boys), Midorima rebelled.

He rebelled in the only way he knew how, by tarnishing the image that was forced onto him. That was the first time he wandered into the small shop on the corner of First Street and Walkway Lane. The flashing neon signs and loud heavy metal music had always attracted his attention before, but never enough to warrant a thought of actually entering. However, with the promise of change and the pretense of confidence, he marched into the tattoo parlor with the goal of permanently getting rid of the pristine image his father was looking for.

Four years and countless body modifications later, Midorima thought of the parlor like his home—at least it felt more of a home than the empty apartment that he came back to every night.

\--/--

He walked into the store on a Tuesday night after his shift at the bookstore down the road from his place to talk details about his next piece. He wanted a tattoo of an animal, but he didn’t want it to be tacky or cheesy, which seemed to be a common theme with the predictable bald eagles soaring in flight and snarling tigers crouched into stereotypical poses that his tattoo artist has drawn up for him before. Midorima didn’t want something on his body that would make him look like a mob boss; he wanted something beautiful and proud. Deep down, he knew that he wanted something to make _him_ look beautiful and proud.

“Hello, welcome to Queen of Hearts Tattoos! What can I do for you?” a loud chirpy voice surprised Midorima over the loud thrash metal song playing. The voice’s owner turned his head quickly around before Midorima could get a look at his face and asked Misaki, “How was that? Good, right?”

The owner of the tattoo parlor shook her head exasperatedly and replied, “It was fine.” She looked to Midorima, “I’ll go get Kaito.” She turned to go down the hallway that leads to the tattooing rooms with a sigh that suggested aggravation, but most anything could make her aggravated so Midorima thought nothing unusual of it.

The man at the counter finally turned around to greet Midorima once she was gone, “Hi! It’s my first day here! Are you a regular?”

Midorima’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened and he blinked several times in quick succession before replying.

“Takao?”

The startled question came out in a dazed whisper, and the dark-haired man at the counter cocked his head to the side as if he were straining to listen. His eyes roamed over the tall man in front of him and suddenly, his eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

“Shin-chan?”

Midorima winced at the overly familiar nickname and the nostalgia it carried with it. He watched as Takao’s eyes took in the man standing before him. Knowing that he looked a lot different from the pale, skinny teenager he had once been, Midorima stepped forward as to not have to raise his voice over the loud music and said, “Yeah. It’s me.”

A startled laugh burst from Takao’s lips as his face morphed into something that looked like complete joy. Midorima’s heart lurched at the sight, remembering what his face looked like marred with shame and guilt. Stepping forward again so that he leaned on the opposite side of the counter, Midorima hungrily ran his eyes over Takao.

He hasn’t really changed that much these past four years. His hair was still wildly unkempt and his face still showed mischievous mirth that danced on the borderline of childish and endearing. His jaw, showing a hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow, seemed more pronounced and his shoulders seemed a bit broader, but other than that, he looked the same.

Takao opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a huge man with tattoos covering the skin up to his neck and angry eyebrows that glinted with four piercings on each side. He came up behind Takao and clapped a hand to his shoulder, “Hey newbie, I see you met my favorite first customer.”

Kaito smiled at Midorima with warmth that contradicted the rough atmosphere about him and shrugged a shoulder at him, “Come on, I drew up some more sketches today. Maybe these will be more ‘sophisticated,’” he said, using sarcastic air quotes around the word and walking down the hallway.

Takao looked up curiously at Midorima after Kaito walked away and asked, “You’re getting a tattoo?”

He flushed and looked down at his feet, “Yeah.”

Takao gave a small hum of acknowledgement. The sound confused Midorima. Did that mean that Takao didn’t like tattoos? Or did it mean that he liked them and was glad he was getting one? Or maybe it just meant that Takao was too polite to just not answer the response that he didn’t actually care about. The latter was unlikely, but four years could really change someone.

Midorima was living, breathing proof of that.

“So I guess you should get over there and plan,” Takao said, sounding reluctant.

“It shouldn’t take that long. Do you want to . . . um—do you want to grab a coffee afterwards?” Midorima asked after gathering up whatever modicum of bravery he had.

He heard Takao suck in a surprised breath and watched his face break out into his old carefree grin before he replied earnestly, “I would love that.”

Nodding awkwardly and walking backwards, Midorima jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate that he was walking away. Takao’s grin didn’t fade and he turned around to fiddle with some things on the counter in front of him, and maybe it was the light playing tricks on his eyes, but Midorima thought he could see a familiar blush on the top of his ears.

\--/--

Once the consultation with Kaito was over an hour later—the lion he sketched up was awful and the snapping turtle he showed Midorima was almost offensive—Midorima walked to the front desk where Takao was enthusiastically greeting another regular. The girl had half a head of full turquoise hair and a chest full of tattoos. She looked up at him and grinned.

“Hey, Shintarou! Takao-kun here was just telling me about how you guys used to play basketball together! You never told me you were a jock!”

Midorima flinched at the loud voice that he has yet to get used to and replied coolly, “Hello, Sato-san.”

Pouting, Sato leaned dramatically over the counter that separated her from Takao. “You never tell me about your past, Shintarou,” she whined. Takao looked between the two with pinched eyebrows. The short girl turned to Takao and whispered in a mock-conspirator stage whisper, “He always acts like he can’t stand me but we’re actually the best of friends.”

Takao’s eyes narrow marginally and he hums a bit to acknowledge the comment but does little else to respond. Still leaned in close to him, Sato nudges Takao once with her shoulder before standing straight and heading towards the hallway where Midorima is still standing.

“Well, I have to go choose the color scheme for my next piece. See ya, Shintarou! It was nice to meet you, Takao-kun!”

Midorima nodded a polite goodbye while Takao says quietly, “Nice to meet you, too, Sato-san.”

Before turning around and walking away, Sato winks at Midorima and gestures inconspicuously at Takao. Feeling a blush crawl up his neck, Midorima waved her away before turning to face Takao, who was still wearing a slight scowl.

“Sorry . . . that took longer than expected. Are you still free to go for some coffee?” Midorima looks at Takao imploringly, trying to find out why his face was so pinched. He could only remember a handful of times that he’s seen Takao look so hostile, not that he liked to remember those times.

Takao sighed and stood up from the stool he was resting on, “Yes. Definitely. It’s been too long, Shin-chan.”

Feeling the corners of his mouth twitch at the overly-friendly nickname, Midorima gestured to the door, indicating that he will follow Takao out. He held the door open as the shorter man walked past, bringing with him a smell of cinnamon and generic shampoo. The familiar scent caused a pang to go through Midorima’s chest as he walked out of the dimly-lit shop behind him.

The air was brisk as the two walked down the block to the coffee shop near the tattoo parlor. The silence between them was filled with something akin to tension, but not something that they felt needed to be dispersed. The two of them had surpassed the stage of closeness where every silence was needed to be filled long ago. The four years didn’t seem to change that.

In fact, even the simple act of walking alongside Takao was heart-achingly familiar. Their footsteps started out uneven as usual, with Midorima’s long legs carrying him several inches ahead of the shorter man, but over the course of a few paces, their gaits started to match. Almost as if they were subconsciously syncing up with each other.

They reached the coffee shop and took their seats in silence. While not uncomfortable, the hush upon the two of them was strained; like the kind of hush that falls before a huge storm or the bated breath held before jumping off of a cliff.

After taking a deep breath to gather up courage to pierce the silence, whatever Midorima was going to say was cut off by Takao’s words.

“You look really good, Shin-chan.”

Midorima blinked in surprise and felt a blush creep onto his face. He reached up to push up the glasses that have sat on his nose since the first year of middle school, “You don’t have to say that if you don’t really mean it.”

Midorima was aware that most people who knew him in the past were apprehensive of his tattoos and piercings, thinking that he was having a crisis about something or that he had finally flown the coop. He figured Takao was merely being polite, giving him a pleasantry reserved for people you knew in high school.

“No, Shintarou, I really mean it,” Takao rebuffed earnestly.

Confusedly scrunching his eyebrows, Midorima asked, “Why are you suddenly calling me like an adult?”

“It seems more fitting,” Takao shrugged, “And seriously, I mean it. You seem a lot more confident.”

Midorima fiddled with the napkin on the table before replying, “There are fewer things in my way now that prevented me from feeling confident.”

Takao’s mouth lifted up into a small smile and he perched his chin on his hands, “That’s really good. How have you been? It really has been way too long since we’ve seen each other.”

Midorima flinched. His mind flashed back to loud, accusing shouts and frantic, discombobulated explanations. The sound of shattering glass and the sight of Takao’s rapidly retreating figure from the view from his second story window reverberated in his mind.

 “I’ve, uh, been good. I work at the bookstore,” Midorima cleared his throat after answering lamely.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m getting my masters right now so I can teach kindergarten.”

Kindergarten. Midorima took a moment to think about how well that suited him. He could see Takao helping small children with their reading and playing games with them during recess; he was the kind of person that could act like a four-year-old himself while maintaining complete control.

“Oh, what sort of classes are you taking?”

\--/--

The two keep up a string of casual conversation, talking about everything while not really saying anything. Midorima’s appearance wasn’t brought up again, and after some time, his shoulders lost their tense hunch and his mind stopped wandering over past experiences.

Once night has completely set upon the sky and the two have run out of safe topics, Takao lets out a deep sigh on their way out of the coffee shop. He stretches his arms over his head in a familiar gesture and turns around to walk backwards while talking to Midorima.

“I had fun tonight. You should give me your number so we don’t fall out of touch again.”

A sudden panic seized Midorima’s chest as he heard the parting words. After spending years away from the small, dark-haired man, he was scared to let him go once he had the opportunity to see him. Without thinking he blurted, “Are you seeing anyone?”

Takao blinked, “No. Are you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Sato-san seemed to be pretty friendly with you.”

Midorima gave Takao a bewildered look. “I have no interest in Sato-san,” he replied, “Besides, she is already seeing Misaki.”

“Oh.”

Takao looked slightly . . . hopeful. Although, that was probably just Midorima’s imagination running wild. However, he had to take the chance before it was taken away to say what he had been avoiding all night.

“I’m sorry, Takao. I’m sorry I let him make you leave.”

Takao’s face seemed to fall under the crushing weight of the words. He closed his eyes briefly before shaking his head.

“I don’t blame you, Shintarou.”

Their eyes met and all the words being unsaid were laid out for the other to see. Maintaining eye contact, Midorima said shyly, “I, um, live just down the road.”

\--/--

Takao barely even waited for Midorima to lock the door behind them to launch himself at the taller man and latch his arms around his neck. Strong arms came up to wrap around his waist as he wrapped his legs around Midorima’s torso. Takao buried his nose into Midorima’s neck, deeply inhaling the familiar scent of gingerbread and expensive shampoo.

The two stand in the foyer of Midorima’s apartment for several moments, listening to the other’s even breaths. Wrapped up in Midorima’s arms and feeling the steady _thump thump thump_ of his heart, Takao feels like he has finally come home. The four years of pining and restless nights are all forgotten as his body is enveloped by the taller man’s embrace. Takao pursed his lips in a chaste kiss against Midorima’s neck, making a trail to his jaw. Giving a small nip before moving on, he kissed a path to Midorima’s lips. Once their lips are separated by only a breath, Takao murmured, “I missed you so much.”

His words caused their lips to brush, which seemed to break the dam and spur Midorima to finally connect them together.

Giving a quiet cry in the back of his throat, Takao hungrily moved his lips against Midorima’s. He craned his neck for a better angle while bring his hands up to cradle the taller man’s face between his hands. He parted his lips with a slight moan, accepting the tongue to brush against his own after Midorima licked across the seam of his mouth.

Heading for his bedroom, Midorima walked across the floor of his apartment with Takao still in his arms with fast and focused steps. Once he reached the wall beside the door to his room, he gently pressed the smaller man against the wall, kissing him passionately. He trailed his mouth down to his neck before biting hard into the space where shoulder and neck met.

Takao gasped as he felt Midorima’s tongue and lips brush over the spot he just bit softly, soothing the sting and making a mark. With his mouth unoccupied, he moaned Midorima’s name.

“Shintarou. Take me to bed.”

Tightening his legs around the torso supporting him, Takao rolled his hips slowly against Midorima’s with small movements. The taller man gave another nip to his neck before gathering him in his arms once more and following the instructions given to him.

He set Takao down on the bed carefully, swinging his legs over his hips to straddle the smaller man. Midorima bent down to kiss Takao’s neck while trailing his hands over his firm chest. Once he reached the hem of the other man’s T-shirt, he stuck his hand underneath to softly trail his fingers over Takao’s abdomen. Shuddering, Takao brought his hands up to Midorima’s face to stoke over the piercing in his right eyebrow. The taller man leaned up as Takao’s fingers burned Midorima’s skin as they traced over each hoop and stud. Once they reached the small hoop located near the corner of the other’s mouth, Takao murmured quietly.

“You seem so much more free, Shintarou. I’m so happy for you.”

Looking earnestly into Takao’s eyes, he replied, “It’s because of you. You helped me feel free.”

“You sure it wasn’t all the scary metal in your face?” Takao rebutted with a cheeky smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Takao. What do you think caused me to feel independent enough to make all these changes? It was you. You’re the one who changed every part of who I was and made me who I am today.”

“I liked who you were,” Takao assured with a serious tone.

“I didn’t.”

The honesty he was displaying scared Midorima. It’s been a long time since he’s told someone what he felt and was completely honest. In fact, Midorima’s pretty sure Takao was the only one to ever hear what was happening inside his brain.

Takao was the only one who bothered to look past the bristly and abrasive exterior to see if the interior was any softer. And once he did, Midorima was able to be honest. With himself, with others, and most of all, with Takao. While holding the face of the man in front of him, Midorima realized that all of the empty space around his heart that he was trying to fill with making himself look irreversibly opposite of the way he raised to look, was shaped exactly like Takao.

Leaning in, Midorima closed the space between their lips again to give the other man a heated and passionate kiss while pushing his shirt up to his neck. Breaking apart for seconds, Takao raised his arms to help the taller man get rid of the offending article before rushing to do the same with Midorima’s shirt.

Once it was gone, Takao stared unabashedly at the sight in front of him. Midorima’s chest was a work of art. It was beautiful and powerful, with the stately phrase placed on his sternum and glinting bars through each nipple. Takao sat up, causing Midorima to lean back against his knees while straddling his lap. He brought up his hands to run them over the decorated pale skin over the taller man’s heart.

Putting his hand flat on the other’s chest, Takao leaned his head down to run his mouth over one of the pierced nipples in front of him. He lightly gripped it with his teeth, feeling the cold glint of metal against his tongue. Midorima threw his head back and moaned at the sensation while running his hands through the dark head of hair in front on his. Takao lowered one hand to tug gently at the piercing at Midorima’s belly button while continuing his lavish administrations against his nipple. He nipped and licked at it while his other hand went around to Midorima’s back to clutch him tightly against himself.

Shuffling back so that he was perched on Takao’s knees rather than his lap, Midorima grabbed at the other man’s belt, getting it out of the way before unclasping his jeans. Takao sighed at the tightness around his bottom half being relieved slightly and the hot breath against his chest made Midorima shudder.

“Lay down,” he told Takao.

Complying, Takao shimmied out of his jeans leaving him in just his boxers before settling down on his back on the bed. Midorima followed his lead and hurriedly stepped out of his pants before straddling Takao again. The brush of his sensitive nipples against Takao’s bare chest made him moan as he ground his hips down, feeling of stiffness of Takao’s cock through his underwear.

Groaning, Takao asked, “Do you have lube?”

“Yeah, it’s behind the headboard,” Midorima answered breathlessly.

Donning a sarcastic look, Takao teased, “Should I be jealous?”

Blushing and rolling his eyes, Midorima reached for the small bottle without answering. He hasn’t been with someone else since the awkward blowjob he had given to a short, dark-haired man at a club six months ago. Takao didn’t need to know about that, or the bone-crushing loneliness Midorima allowed himself to feel briefly when he realized through a drunken haze that the man had brown eyes instead of steel gray.

He laid the bottle down on the bed next to Takao before leaning down and stealing his lips into a deep kiss. Their tongues tangled together in sync while Midorima reached down to cup Takao softly through his boxers, causing him to moan softly into the kiss. Fondling him through the fabric, Midorima kissed Takao’s lips with fevered urgency. He was kissing him with all the passion he had stowed away the past four years without him. Takao’s lips were as soft as he remembered and his kisses were still tender and kind even in the heat of the moment. Surprisingly, it was always Takao being the one to slow down and make every touch and kiss last.

Midorima broke away and whispered in to Takao’s ear as if he were telling a secret, “I missed you every day.”

Takao’s breath hitched and he traced his fingers down Midorima’s back while burying his face in his shoulder. He huffed out a shaky laugh and said, “C’mon, Shin-chan. You’re being kind of sad. Let’s just think about what’s happening right now.”

At the end of his sentence, he started playing with the waistband of Midorima’s boxers, brushing teasing strokes across his lower back. He dipped his hand into the back of the taller man’s underwear, squeezing a handful of his ass when Midorima arches back into the touch.

Chuckling softly, Takao moved his hands to the front of his underwear and finally brushed his hand across Midorima’s cock. Pushing the boxers down, Takao took him into his hand and stroked him, twisting his hand when it reached the tip. Letting a small groan escape from the back of his throat, Midorima thrust his hips into the other’s grasp.

Midorima dropped down so that his elbows bracketed Takao’s face and their torsos moved against each other’s with each roll of his body. With some difficulty and help from Takao, Midorima was able to push the shorter man’s boxers down enough that his unclothed erection could brush against Midorima’s hip.

The two rolled their hips against the other’s, creating friction that forced moans and high-pitched noises to escape from their mouths. Taking the small bottle in his hand, Midorima squeezed a small amount onto his palm before reaching between them and grabbing both of their erections and stroking them from root to tip. The feeling of his cock and Midorima’s clasped together in the taller man’s large hand made Takao feel a familiar pool of heat gather in his lower abdomen. 

“Ah- Shin . . . Shintarou, fuck me. I want to feel you again,” Takao’s ragged voice called out.

Releasing a breathy moan and nodding with fervor, Midorima gripped Takao’s leaking dick alone before trailing his hand towards his balls. Rolling them softly in on hand, he brought his other hand up to stroke Takao’s length before reaching back farther to rub a circle over his entrance.

Takao gasped at the contact, and rolled his hips into the hand circled around his dick. Midorima took this opportunity to push a single finger into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle. Takao wiggled his hips slightly before wrapping his legs around Midorima’s waist to give him more room. Midorima took his hand from behind Takao to pour more lube onto his fingers before trailing back to his previous position with a single digit inside Takao while his hand strokes the shorter man’s cock.

He slowly pushed his finger in so that it was fully buried inside Takao, swiping his thumb around the head of his cock while doing so to distract him. Midorima kept his finger still for a moment before pulling out to thrust shallowly, waiting for Takao’s muscles to relax. Midorima prepared Takao quickly but thoroughly and soon enough, the shorter man was rolling his hips back to meet the thrusts of Midorima’s fingers.

“Ah- I’m ready, Shintarou. You gotta do it now,” he ordered with a breathy moan.

Leaning back and removing his fingers, Midorima quickly grabbed a condom from the drawer of his bedside table and rolled it over his hard length. After sliding a hand over it to cover it with lube, he leant down to put his hands next to Takao’s face. He brought their hips together and Takao wrapped his legs around the green-haired man’s waist, shuddering when he felt the head of his cock nudge his entrance.

Midorima kept his glasses on, which was a hindrance but it was always something that he’s done, and so he was able to see clearly the emotion on the smaller man’s face. Pushing in slightly, Midorima saw a brief flash of pain before it changed to pleasure as he wrapped his hand around Takao’s cock. Takao used his legs to pull Midorima’s hips closer and the taller man took the hint to snap them forward, fully seating himself inside Takao. The two were still for a moment, getting used to the feeling of becoming one after so many years.

“Takao,” Midorima whispered his name in slight awe. He looked directly in the other man’s eyes while pulling almost all the way out to thrust back in passionately. He grinded his hips against Takao in wide circle, causing the smaller man to arch his back at the feeling of the friction on his cock and in his ass.

The two moved in perfect synchronization, breathing heavily and moaning sporadically. Takao let out a particularly loud groan when Midorima shifted his angle and brushed against the bundle of nerves inside of him. He kept a steady and tender pace with his thrusts and moved inside of Takao with deep and slow strokes.

“Shin-Shintarou, you’re amazing,” Takao praised thorough his high-pitched keens and heavy breathing. He brought his hands up to run them over Midorima’s chest, fingers catching at the bars through his nipples and tweaking one before moving back to lock his arms around his back.

Midorima leans his face down to kiss Takao, ditching finesse and delivering sloppy, messy kisses. He was moving with a kind of passion that was obviously saved over the four years of Takao’s absence, moving in sync with Takao’s rolling hips. Feeling the familiar pit of heat pool in his lower stomach, Midorima’s thrusts sputtered sporadically. “Takao, I’m close,” he moaned in the other man’s ear.

“Shintarou, ah—Shintarou, me too, come on. Come on, Shintarou.”

With labored breath and a racing heartbeat, Midorima slammed his hips into Takao, hitting his prostate with every stroke and causing friction on his cock with his stomach. The stimuli caused Takao to make a high-pitched whining noise in the back of throat as he gripped Midorima’s shoulders tightly with his hands.

The two were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat as they moved together passionately. The glasses on the taller man’s face were sliding down as he angled his face toward the one below him, so he balanced on one hand to take them off and place them beside Takao’s head.

 Midorima’s thrusts were erratic and arrhythmic, and Takao was meeting with them with hurried rolls of his hips. Once the pressure in his lower torso reached its peak, Midorima buried his face in the other’s man’s neck and groaned. His orgasm came over him in waves, and he fucked into Takao with frenzied thrusts, causing the other man’s to moan in ecstasy. He came into the condom buried inside of Takao, moaning with abandon against his neck.

Takao, seeing stars of pleasure with the steady pressure against the bundle of nerves inside him, moved his hips as best as he could to keep up with the frantic thrusts. Feeling his own climax approach him in response to the pleasure he felt in his lower half, Takao arched his back and moaned wantonly. Once he felt the pulsing of Midorima’s cock inside of him, he reached a hand down to stroke at his own erection to finish in sync with the other man. Reaching his peak, Takao cried out and came over his hand and Midorima’s abdomen.

Coming down from their highs and catching their breaths, the two slumped together on the bed with a tired huff. Midorima pulled out gently, causing them both to wince. He rolled over so he was no longer on top of the smaller man, lying next to him so that their arms were flush against each other’s. Takao extended his hand to take the other’s in his grasp. He smiled to himself when he felt Midorima tangle their fingers together.

“You got better at that, Shin-chan,” Takao quipped, being purposefully lighthearted.

Midorima flushed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Takao.”

Takao’s smile was small, but genuine. It was the smile that would always cause Midorima’s heart to skip a beat; it softened Takao’s features, making him look tender and relaxed. Compelled by something unbeknownst to him, Midorima reached out his free hand to cup the other man’s face, bring him in for a warm kiss. Takao’s lips were soft as they moved against Midorima’s. Their tongues tangled together in a languid dance as Takao brought his arm around to wrap it around Midorima’s waist so that their entire bodies were flush together, causing their legs to intertwine. Midorima broke away from the kiss to look into Takao’s eyes with his hand still cupping his jaw.

He looked as if he were about to say something, but Takao interrupted him.

“Shintarou, you haven’t changed at all,” he said abruptly, as if the thought just occurred to him.

Midorima reared his head back in surprise before replying, “What are you talking about? Of course I have. You even call me by a different name.”

“Ah, I think that came out wrong. . . . What I meant was that my feelings for haven’t changed at all. I was surprised when I first saw you, to be completely honest, and I was sure that whatever remnants of feelings I had for you would be gone. . . . But they’re not,” Takao replied with a slightly panicked look in his eyes.

“They’re not, Shintarou,” he continued softly, “I still feel the same about you as I did that day when I left you.”

Takao had the _look_ on his face. The look of guilt and shame that plagued Midorima for years. “No, Takao, you did not leave me, I never once felt like that was the case. It was _his_ fault for making you leave. And it was my fault for letting him,” he told Takao urgently.

Takao sat up and turned to look at Midorima, “No, Shintarou, it wasn’t--”

Following him into a seated position, Midorima cut Takao off, “No, Takao please let me say this. I was young and I was scared, and I let my father make you feel like I should be ashamed of you. I let him make you leave. But he doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t care about his opinion—no, his _approval—_ anymore. The only thing I care about . . . is you.”

Midorima was staring resolutely at the bed so that he didn’t have to look into the other man’s eyes when he laid his heart out for him to see. He could feel heat creep up to his cheeks, and he knew that he looked like a blushing middle-schooler. He felt a hand reach under his chin, nudging his face up which caused him to be looking directly into Takao’s eyes.

“Oh, Shintarou,” Takao let out in a dazed whisper, “I think I love you. . . . Is that allowed?”

Midorima knew that Takao was being facetious, that was trying to revert back to his usual lighthearted banter, but his heart lurched at the thought of Takao thinking that he may not be allowed to love him. Midorima took Takao’s face into his hands, cradling his jaw and staring earnestly into his eyes.

“Takao . . . don’t be absurd,” he tried to say in a lighthearted tone that matched Takao’s, “You’ve never asked for permission to take something you wanted before.”

“So you’re saying you’ll let me have you?”

Takao looked joyful, with bright eyes and his face alight with hope. Midorima wanted to look away, but he felt captivated by the man in front of him.

“I’m saying you’ve already had me.”

Takao’s face broke into a radiant smile. He pushed forward to seal Midorima’s lips into a heated kiss before saying quietly, “Good, ‘cause I’ve been yours since the day I met you.”

\--/--

However confident he’s become, Midorima still felt more comfortable while carrying a lucky item. He didn’t have one everyday like he used to, but if his ranking was subpar, or his fortune turned out to be distasteful, he would carry around the lucky item given to him by Oha-Asa.

That being said, his affinity for fate and the stars stuck with him even to this age, which is why he found himself looking down at the inside of his forearms six months after Takao had come back into his life. He had gotten a couple more tattoos, and after a particularly wild night with Misaki and Sato-san, he ended up with four more piercings on his left ear.

But, these tattoos were significant and beautiful. They may not have been the proud and stately animals of the wild he desired before, but they were enough. Near his right elbow, on the inside of his forearm, was a small crab done in oranges and reds. It was an easy decision for him to get the visual depiction of his star sign tattooed on his body, because it was always going to be part of who he is.

The decision to get a scorpion done in purples and blue on the opposite arm in the same place was almost as easy.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry if this didnt make sense.... it was purely self indulgent
> 
> i have a tumblr: sonic-rebellion.tumblr.com


End file.
